Lockdown: Day 241

I am so tired. Tired of feeling tired and tired of ventilating how tired I am.

I am uncertain whether the end of this horrid year is the weight that keeps making me feel like I’m a flat tyre.

I am not unhappy, but neither have I been very happy these past two weeks. I still wake up with love and fire in my heart for the day. I’m very grateful that I’m alive but I have been feeling a bit divorced from myself lately.

I’ve caught myself on numerous occasions not really listening to my friends and colleagues. Their words fly over me like pigeons in a coffee shop. And I’ve found myself panicking mid-conversation trying to remember what is being said. The inability to be present and not absorb information is bizarre and uncontrollably scary. And I haul myself over the coals, dry ice, and barbed wire daily for being half awake, half asleep, mediocre, and weepy.

These past two weeks have been a lesson. I’m learning how to compartmentalize what is important and what isn’t. I’ve become even more selfish with my time and tend to sleep a lot longer than I’m supposed to. I feel like my body is trying to recover from the amount of torture I’ve forced it to endure. I have in the past couple of months, sleep-deprived my beautiful mind, body, and soul. I have overworked, juggled, and maneuvered my way into a corner of mediocre joy. And it took a kind friend and her story of burnout to make me realise that I’m running towards a cliff, with a bottle of gin in one hand and no parachute.

Confession

I have been on Solal’s Burnout for three years now. This because of a combination of things and not because I’m a complete workaholic, addicted to endurance sport and books. No!

I have been using Burnout because my adrenal system doesn’t produce enough of its own cortisol. Cortisol is our body's natural flight response. It helps us solve problems and keeps us balanced and happy amongst other things. When I started working the day shift, my body went into shock, and eventually, I started producing cortisol naturally. Now that I’m back on the early shift and waking up at 2h30 every day I am back to square one.

What I’m hearing myself say is that I need a new job. This fact is not entirely untrue.

A week ago I was hopping with excitement to go out running with my club after a long work week. I missed these humans and their friendly faces. I woke up early to watch the sunrise and felt such peace that day. Less than an hour later, my greed to feel my body move continuously during a run would see me skip a pit stop with the ladies. I jogged as slow as I could, not wanting to be too far out of sight from anyone. And I really felt so free and so happy.

I greeted a cyclist making his way to CycleLab for his club ride to the Cradle of Humankind. He ignored me but I didn’t really care. I smiled to myself and continued running.

I tripped a little just before the bend and managed to regain my balance. A close call, I thought. I took the bend and felt triumphant because stretched ahead was an uphill and I was ready. I was ready to climb this toughie and I drew my arms in with excitement. I noticed a car careening down the road and instinctively I moved right onto the gravel. I looked up one more time and noticed the glow of the sun on the trees to the left of me and then it happened. My nightmare…

My foot struck a rock and in a blink, I was face down in the earth, with a split knee that was pierced by hard rock and its gravel offspring. I was so stunned and embarrassed that I stood up almost immediately and had stopped my watch. I wanted to cry and it wasn’t because of the burning pain from my hands and knee. It was because I couldn’t finish my run. I was even more embarrassed because all eyes were on me and my whole tribe’s run was being affected because of my clumsiness. I was mortified.

The ladies from RunLikeAGirlFourways are the most resourceful, kind, bunch of humble individuals you’ll ever meet though. Within minutes I was handed a coke, comforted, encouraged, and then placed into an Uber on my way back to my car. There were a plethora of messages from the ladies on our whatsapp group. My church group was also informed and support and love streamed in from all corners. But - let’s call it a momentary lapse of judgment - in my pain, while I waited for an X-ray to be done at the hospital, I got my period. I felt so vulnerable and without a pad or a tampon, I bled on the bed and pretended ‘those’ spots came from my knee instead of my vagina. Life felt so incredibly surreal and weird at that moment. I called my brother with a massive lump in my throat.

“Bhai,” I whispered.

“Bhai, I wish I had someone.”

“Kak,” he bellowed.

“You don’t need a man.”

My brother proceeded to remind me that I have an amazing legion of people in my camp. We surround the same fire and I shouldn’t feel alone.

Immediately after that exchange, I hobbled into a wheelchair and while trying to breathe and calm myself, a friend from my club messaged asking if I wanted company. My heart soared and I said yes. Relief flooded through me and I began to whimper. I didn’t immediately recognize that the sound was coming from me. It was a strange sound and I looked around in disbelief for a moment. But when the penny dropped, so did my tears. They spilled over furiously into my lap and I felt, anger, fear, heartbreak, pain, and relief all at the same time. I felt brittle and fragile and I longed with all my heart for a hug and someone’s hand in prayer.

And it came. In droves.

Two days later I cried again, this time on my way to work. Still battling with a weirdo limp, I walked up the stairs and stood at the top for a little while, grateful that I had managed to climb the two flights a bit quicker than the day before. I inhaled deeply, thought of my dad and then I recalibrated to get my head into work mode.

I wasn’t dead, right? Taking some time out of running would be fine.

Fast forward to Friday. I woke up at 4h30, fresh from a long sleep and I danced to my usual beat on days when I get to see the sunrise. I made a coffee and ran upstairs like a little girl. I was writing an entrance exam at 9h00 and despite the extra sleep, I felt a bit flat and my chest was achy. I thought I was getting a cold and made mental notes to take some extra vitamin c and eat clean. After my exam, I fell asleep for hours and when I got up I started reading a book.

Yesterday, I took my knee out for a run on the treadmill and I felt a bit more human. It was the second night in a row that I had slept for longer than 9 hours. I also read all day and finished a book.

Today, I feel calmer than I have in a long time. I slept 12 hours last night and I didn’t wake up once. I had a sex dream, oddly enough, and I feel like I need to fast to regain my focus again.

I don’t dream much anymore.

When I woke up today, I started reading the sequel to yesterday’s book. I plan to continue reading until bedtime and hopefully tonight, I’ll dream again.

The morning’s peaceful sunrise before my fall.

Odd, but I decided to document the exact moment I started crying into my lap.